Tristan and Amara
by PaintMeAntagonist
Summary: TRISTAN AND ISOLDE What if Isolde had Tristan's son and king Marke had a girl with another woman? What if they met? Isolde had wanted to spare her son the hurt of a tragic love...but can she? Returned & Reworked!
1. Chapter One

**A/N: **

I really hope this can regain some of the exposure it had managed before I stopped writing it. I know that since this movie in this section it might not get the attention that I want but I am determined to put it out there. I haven't seen the movie in ages and I have yet to buy it but I've reworked the first two chapters (and oddly enough they came out as 3 different chapters) leaving them much the same as they were. My writing style has changed and I figured it only made sense to rewrite it.

So! The question raised? _What if Isolde had Tristan's son and Marke had a daughter with another woman? This is the story of what would happen._

Tristan & Amara

By: PaintMeAntagonist

**Chapter One**

_"Have you forsaken your house and home?  
Have you forsaken your baby?  
Have you forsaken your husband dear  
For a whistling gypsy rover?"_

_"Gypsy Rover," A traditional Celtic son_

"

Amara sat wedged between her father and her aunt. Her mother stood before them, swaying gently on her feet as if she were going to collapse, a look of severe guilt glued onto her face. "You, Elisa, have been found out." Her father said in a tired voice. His crown, which sat perched upon his head, leaned forward on his graying hair as he tilted his face downward to look sadly at the stone floor. He seemed wholly unconcerned with her mother's appearance, his troubled mind trying desperately to allocate the reason for his unsuccessful marriages. Amara watched as her mother wrung her pale hands and shook her head.

"Marke, it was an accident. This wasn't supposed to happen. If I'd thought that we would have bee found out so publicly I never would have-"

"Quiet Elisa!" The king's voice echoed through the hall, bouncing off the walls and flying to hit hard upon his queen. King Marke looked up and his eyes held anger and frustration. All of which was directed entirely on Elisa. One of her mother's waiting women hesitantly shifted out of the line along the wall. Amara knew she was suppressing an urge to go to her. How loyal some of these women were, Amara remembered. Elisa let loose a burdened sob. Amara had to look away from the pain in the room was too much for her to bear.

"Father?" Amara said gently.

When he turned to look at her his moods seemed to change so quickly that one would wonder if he had been putting on an act. The love that beamed in his eyes settled on his only child and the happiness exuding from him was stronger than his anger had been seconds before. "Yes?"

"Why do you treat her so?" Amara said, looking into her father's eyes. "She know she has done wrong. Let her live with the guilt for the rest of her life."

"Amara, my dear child, this is not the first time your mother has betrayed me. Perhaps if it were not such a public matter this situation would be different but as it stands I simply cannot afford to look so weak."

"I know all of this...still I would like to think that you are merciful as well as great." Amara said. "I believe all of your subjects would like to believe that as well." She added as she waved a hand at the smattering of public outsiders that had fought their way into the receiving room.

He smiled, the wrinkles near his eyes becoming more prominent. He grasped Amara's hand with his weathered one. "This is why I keep you alive, Elisa." He said. Her mother's pale face turned to her daughter, hoping to catch her eye. "You do her wrong. Is this the example you wish to set for our daughter?"

"No, my lord." Her response should have ended there but Amara knew her mother too well. She would try to defend her actions to her husband as publicly as she had been discovered, in an oft used storage room near the banquet hall. "You know that we did not marry for love. You know we do not hare a loving relationship, but please remember that I love her just as much as you do. Please remember that I have done nothing wrong by loving the man I do. If I could undo the actions that have led us here I would, but I do not regret loving him. Please remember that I want Amara to follow her heart like I have done."

Amara could hear the anguish in her mother's voice. The ultimate meaning behind her mother's words was clear to her as well as every other bystander in the room. She was saying a goodbye, declaring her final wishes. Amara's heart leapt unpleasantly in her chest. "Father," she began again, this time with a tinge of panic in her voice. "I understand that, as king, you cannot have a wife who commits such treason, but I cannot see her dead. If anything, please just send her up country. Away from here she may do as she wishes without the prying eye of your most noted subjects.

"Since this has been so public, my mother has lost a great deal of respect as the people here do love you, father. She will live with no control over them and be little better than a mistress in the court. She can do no harm now and she will be sneered at if not completely forgotten."

King Marke sighed and placed a weary hand to his face. His consideration was a good sign, Amara knew she had a way with her father. "Elisa, is this something you would prefer?" He asked unnecessarily. His question was only an attempt for him to prove he didn't want to put her death either.

"Oh, please, my lord."

"It shall be done." He breathed outwardly. "However when court comes together you shall be by my side and you will take great care to not be so foolish or I will have no other options."

The guilty queen nodded and bowed before him. "I thank you, my lord." She turned, much steadier on her feet now, to her women and nodded. "Amara," She called over her shoulder. "I shall be waiting for you in your chambers." Amara did not respond but watched her mother leave. Slowly the room began to empty.

Her father turned to her, a trusting eye placed on her face. "Amara, I want you to go with her. Help her get settled in. Watch her. Will you do that for me?"

She smiled brightly. "Of course father. I have no reason to deny you a thing in the world." She rose and turned to him once more. "When are you going to arrange a marriage?" She asked hesitantly.

"Soon, Amara, soon. I know you are anxious to learn your fate. I know it has troubled you as of late." Amara crushed the urge to let the color rise in her cheeks. She must remain outwardly level-headed. "Not all marriages are bad marriages. Please keep that in mind." She smiled once more and nodded. She stood and walked toward the door. "Amara?" He asked. A backwards glance showed her father in a contemplative mood, one that troubled her. He had been tired and despondent lately. "If you were to find the man who truly claims your heart before any marriage I arrange is to take place, you remember that I shall not stand in your way? Remember that, my love. I can deny you nothing and I have learned my lesson of this more than once."

She didn't nod. She didn't respond. Her father had risen, deep in though and retreated backward into a room leading to a council.

---

Upon entering her chambers she found her mother sitting deep within, at a window near her bed. "Amara," She asked with a whimsical tone. "do you know anything about Isolde?"

"Who?"

"Isolde. Your father's first wife." Her mother replied as she glanced out of the window.

For a minute, Amara traversed the caverns of her memories before stories piled onto each other. "Her." She said slightly dismissing the woman. "Yes. She was a princess of Ireland, was she not? And she was irrevocably in love with a man named Tristan. It's a story I've heard many times."

"From who?" Her mother asked, startled.

Amara faltered under her mother's confused glance. "People in the market, gatherings of girls at reception banquets, Boudicca before she disappeared to the once told me when I was very little. He thinks I do not remember." She admitted sheepishly.

"Amara, I want you to do something for me."

She waited patiently for her mother to elaborate. It quickly became apparent that she wouldn't continue until she gave her consent. "What?"

"I want you to find Isolde. I want you to ask as many people as you can about her. Find out if she has children."

"Why?" She asked suspiciously.

Her mother paused for a moment before grasping the wall and standing. "I have been told that she was with child when she disappeared. If she was it could belong to your father. Or it could easily belong to the other, Tristan."

"Mother. You're dappling in dangerous waters. If father finds out he will not be pleased."

"Which is why I am asking you. Your father would give the world to you. All of his wealth and beyond. You are the only who captures his heart so completely. You are the only one who can get away with it."

"Why-"

"Do you not realize that your father cannot give this kingdom to you?" Her mother asked with frustration. "A son can keep it in our hands. If the child has lived and is his it is important to know if he is a threat or if is useful."

Amara grimaced at her mother's obvious determination to keep the throne in the hands of her husband's lineage, a husband she notably detested.

"Mother, I would not know where to start." She tried again.

"Her old maid is not far from where I will be sent to stay. I know your father wishes you to accompany me. You can begin there."

Amara trembled secretly as she nodded in response to her mother. She didn't understand the meaning behind her mother's motivation nor did she particularly want to. She would have denied her mother this. It was dangerous ground she was sending her to tread on. Still, she couldn't refuse her mother the thing that could well be her last wish. Her mother was one for danger and she could head straight to her death before she knew it.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

_"O, mischief, thou art swift to enter in the thoughts of desperate men!"_

_-William Shakespeare (Romeo & Juliet)_

Somewhere in Northern Britain, Tristan Killian sat with his mother. The small wooden table that was in front of them creaked as he leaned forward to grab the bread his mother had made two days ago. "Killian, we shall starve the rest of the week if you eat like this." His mother said with a gentle, musical laugh.

"Mother," He said energetically as he popped a piece in his mouth. "I'm a growing boy."

"Do I look foolish enough to keep falling for that old line?" She asked without an anger. "You're a man, Killian. Nineteen and well past growing any further." She reached forward and brushed her son's golden hair out of his face. His dazzling eyes playfully smirked. She couldn't hide the tears welling her eyes. "You look so like your father."

"I wish I could have met him." He said, feeling the effects of his mother's nostalgic sadness. "He must have been such a hero. Would I be more like him if I had?" He wondered out loud. Lately, he'd gotten the impression that he was a bit too silly to live up to his father's image.

"You are like him." She said with honesty. "You are as brave as him. As smart and as cunning as him and as handsome too." She smiled fondly at him. "You couldn't be more like him."

He chewed thoughtfully on the bread and decided to ambush his mother once more with questions. "Mother, there has to be more to life than this. Will you ever let me leave this place? I'm sick of the woods and I'm sick of the village. I want to visit the heart of the kingdom. I want to be more than this."

"Eventually, yes, Killian." She said as she quickly looked down at the table. "I just want you to be safe."

"How more safe can I be? All of our troubles are over, mother. King Marke has been ruling for twenty years. Everything is fine and peaceful."

"Killian, I just want you to be cautious." She stated.

"There is absolutely nothing to fear. What are you hiding from?" He demanded. "What is so terrifying?" He watched her for a minute. "This isn't fair to me." He said.

"I know."

"I don't think you do." He said. "I could leave. Simply leave on my own and you could do nothing about it. I'm a man. You've said it yourself. I can do as I please." He got up and went for the door. The house was too small for him at the moment. His mother's dreams, her life, were too small for him. He needed to get away. He could feel his temper rising and he refused to let it out around her.

Walking for many minutes, he let his aggression out of the ground. He kicked a fallen branch, hoping his foot wouldn't begin to throb painfully. It didn't so he hopped over the branch and continued on. He walked until he got to the edge of the wood. There, glistening in the sun, he saw a huge stone castle. Bustling on the dirt ground around it he watched many people. There were women dressed gruffly in dull colors, women in brighter colors, men in armor. There was hardly any pause in the action taking place.

He watched curiously as the people went in and out of the castle in a steady stream. _A cleaning expedition?_ He thought. There was hardly any reason. No one had visited the castle in years and years. Even then it was only the distant cousin of the queen, a man who had claimed he needed relaxation after troubles on the warpath, whatever that meant. He cocked his head to the side and grinned. Perhaps someone was coming from the City. Perhaps it was someone of importance this time. The assembly of servants and guards seemed to state that.

_Finally,_

he thought with the sun winking in his eyes,

_Some excitement._

**---**

**A/N: **I'm not really sure if this is any good any more. I'd really like some feedback on it. I want to make it the best it can be. Any reviews are appreciated!


End file.
